


The Stroking of the Ego

by ZAIBACH



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Lack of Communication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 17:47:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16791748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZAIBACH/pseuds/ZAIBACH
Summary: In which Asuka seeks validation in all the right places. May become explicit in later chapters, but mostly focusing on the developing romances of one Asuka Langley Soryu, and the pilots that seek to understand her.





	The Stroking of the Ego

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ao3, been a while. I don't know what this is yet, but I hope you'll enjoy it. Here's a little Shinji/Asuka fluff to whet the palate.

Asuka Langley Soryu had a lot to look forward to in life. Namely, uh, well...piloting? Yeah. Right. She could cling to that easily, wear it uniformly atop her head like the proud beast that she was. Two little red horns sticking out above orange hair, colors melting into one another like fire consuming the petri-dish that was Tokyo-03. 

Poetic. She liked that. She scribbled that down, glitter ink pen smearing along the faded blue lines of her paper. She was keeping a diary, but she wouldn't call it that. It was...memoirs. Right. A lot more mature sounding. 

She was keeping memoirs for the next generation of pilots to look back on. Memoirs for the other little red-headed girls to pour themselves over and feel empowered enough to continue on. Memoirs for the souls lost to the angels, for mothers, for fathers, for _history._ It was important work. She was an important person. It must be done. Asuka bites her lip as she continues her glitter ink tirade, making no attempt to proofread or even make sure that her left hand's smudges didn't make a mess of the paper. There wasn't time for that- the time to write was _now._ Here. In the middle of her dark room with a reading light attached to her journal, Shinji making the most annoying noises a sleeping person had ever made in their lives. She was sure of it. 

She'd thought about sticking grapes up his nose to block his airways, but that could kill him, and she wasn't ready for that commitment; nor was the thought of his death convenient to her right now. Maybe later. Maybe once her memoirs are published, once he's read them and creamed himself over how badass she was. Small victories. Instead, she looks longingly over at him, at this stupid face, and pokes the end of her pen against it. Shinji does nothing short of a death rattle at the intrusion, trying in vain to swat away whatever force was prodding against his cheek. It only serves to make Asuka giggle at her own bullying, digging the pen in harder to his near cherubic cheeks. 

"Oi, Shinji," She half-whispers, tapping the pen harshly onto his cheek now. "Wake up or I'm gonna draw a dick on your face. A big one. Shinjiiiiiiii."

The next sound he makes is something of an anomaly, like an elephant made it and not a teenage boy. He blearily opens one eye. reddened with sleep, and wipes the crust off his other one.

"Asuka, c'mon...we have to be up early tomorrow for training. And there's a math test. And I'm pretty sure you planned to study with Hikari or something. Go to sleep. Leave me alone...please."

His tacked on pleasantries just serve to piss her off more, and she reaches over into his personal space to flick his nose as hard as she can, effectively stirring the last of his sleepiness. Perfect. 

"Well, I've got bad news for you, Shinji! Check the time. There's no point going back to sleep right now when we're getting up in an hour. You're obligated to help me with this, seeing as we're spending so much time together. You know me pretty well, right? Look. Read this."

She shoves her journal in his face, too close for him to even attempt reading it, before he hesitantly grabs it. The words are just a few squiggles short of illegible, a mixture of English and misplaced German, and Shinji is just surprised he can tell what either of them say. 

"Asuka, I can't even read this. There's like, three different languages mixed up in there. Two of them I barely know. Just let me go to bed. Please. I promise you that I will read it later, okay? You should too. I don't think your brain's running at full capacity right now. Did you even sleep?"

She squints at him, tugging the journal away from his hands and shoving it behind her pillow faster than he can even register. She feels a small twinge of shame at herself for trying to share this little important part of her ever-developing concourse of a brain- and vows to maybe just not try so hard next time. 

"Whatever. Sleep is for weaklings like you. What does eight hours do for your half-assed synch rate?"

Shinji, used to the barrage of insults when Asuka didn't get her way, just lays back down, feeling defeated even though he'd won the battle. The war, he knew, was Asuka's alone, and she'd fight to her last breath.

"Asuka, please," He pleads, rolling over on his side, back facing towards her. "Just sleep. You'll feel better. I'll read it, okay? I-I'm sure it's good."

Silence. That seems to sate her, that little verbal pat on the back. He hears her rustling around in her sheets, lying down beside him, her hair making little shuffling sounds against the fabric. He _feels_ warmth, strange warmth against his back, the tickle of her hair against his neck.Her back was against him, her childish way of surrender that seemed to comfort them both on sleepless nights. 

"Fine," She mutters, scooting just a little closer. "...It is good. You'll see."


End file.
